'You know they're going to kill her, don't you? And when they kill her, you're going to be an accessory to murder, and that means years behind bars. And you know exactly what that's like, don't you?'
'Who the fuck are you?'
'The one person who can help you. You've only got one chance to get out of this, Mr Gentleman, and that's to cooperate. Tell the police who you're working for, otherwise I'm going to spend every waking hour for the rest of my life building a case against you, and I'll make sure you go down for murder. Do you understand me?'
'You're that bloke who was with her, aren't you? Well, you listen to me! You can't prove a fucking thing! All right? And you're a dead fucking man messing around in stuff that doesn't concern you!'
'We'll see,' I said, and cut the connection.
Now there was absolutely no way back.
I called Tina. 'It's done.'
'I know,' she said, 'I heard you. Very menacing. Now we'll see what he does.'
Twenty-six
It didn't take Gentleman long to react. As Tina listened, he made a call out from the landline, just as she'd hoped. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing the number he was calling, but that didn't matter. If necessary, she could contact the phone company and find that information out later.
There was no answer at the other end, just an automated voice asking him to leave a message.
'I've just had a call from that bloke who saw you at the flat on Sunday night,' said Gentleman breathlessly into the phone. 'The bastard's threatening to go to the law and turn me in. This whole thing's getting out of fucking hand. You've got to do something because I ain't taking the rap for it. Call me back ASAP, OK? I'm at home.' He reeled out the number. 'I'm getting very worried here, and if I don't hear back from you soon I'm going to go to the law myself!' He slammed the handset back in its cradle, and the tilt switch stopped recording.
Tina exhaled. She'd just heard the final proof that the kidnapping had actually occurred. Now she knew she had to do something. Unfortunately, by illegally tapping Gentleman's phone she'd put herself in a difficult position. If she went with the recording to DCI Knox, or the Kidnap Unit, she was going to have to answer some very inconvenient questions. But if she didn't…If she didn't, it might cost Jenny Brakspear her life.
Tina suddenly felt completely alone. She knew who she needed to speak to. But the one person who'd be able to get her out of this predicament and move things forward without her losing her job was currently off the radar.
'Where the hell are you, Mike?' she whispered, staring out of the windscreen towards Gentleman's apartment block.
She stubbed out her cigarette, took a drink from a bottle of mineral water on the seat next to her, and phoned Bolt for a third time. Once again he didn't pick up. Once again she left a message, except this time she said that the kidnapping had definitely occurred and that she needed his help desperately. She cursed herself afterwards for using that word. It made her feel weak. Yet, if truth be told, she was feeling pretty desperate.
She wondered what Gentleman was doing, and phoned the mobile she'd left behind his sofa, prefixing the number with 141, so that Gentleman wouldn't be able to trace the call back to her own mobile on the off-chance he discovered the handset before she had a chance to retrieve it. It auto-answered and went to open mike. She could hear movement inside the apartment. It sounded like he was pacing up and down, but the reception wasn't very good. He was definitely panicking, and it crossed her mind to knock on his door, show him her warrant card and wait to hear what he had to say. But there was no guarantee that he could help locate Jenny, or even ID the people who'd taken her.
So, sweating in the heat of the day, Tina sat in her car and pondered her next move while listening to Gentleman as he moved about in his apartment. He occasionally let slip an angry muffled curse, but soon she grew bored of listening to nothing and ended the call. The street was deadly quiet, only the occasional car and pedestrian appearing, and after a while she shut her eyes and dozed off.
She was woken with a start by the rumble of an engine, and as she opened her eyes she saw a dark blue Toyota Land Cruiser with blacked-out windows drive slowly past before pulling up on the other side of the road about twenty yards up from Gentleman's place.
A white man in dark glasses and a baseball cap got out the passenger side and took the briefest of glances up and down the street. The day was warm, mid-twenties and humid, yet he was still wearing a jacket, and even from twenty yards away Tina could see that the pale, almost translucent skin of his face was stretched tight from plastic surgery.
It was the kidnapper who'd threatened Rob.
She grabbed her Nikon camera from the seat beside her and started taking pictures. She managed to get several good ones in profile before the suspect turned and started walking in the direction of Gentleman's flat. She turned her attention to the Land Cruiser, getting a shot of its number plate as the driver accelerated away and disappeared under the railway bridge.
The suspect walked up to Gentleman's building, paused for just one second, and then went directly inside.
Tina tensed, listening. A part of her was pleased. She'd got a photo of one of the kidnappers, and given the way he looked it shouldn't be too hard to put a name to him. But another part of her was extremely concerned, because the manner of his arrival, and his demeanour and appearance, suggested he wasn't here to bolster Gentleman's morale.
She looked at her watch, made a mental note of the time – 2.45 – and phoned the mobile in the flat again, listening as it was auto-answered at the other end.
For the first few seconds there was silence. Then she heard a faint knock on the door, and the sound of footfalls. Gentleman said 'Who is it?' but Tina couldn't hear any reply. There was the sound of the door being unlocked, then Gentleman said something else, but this time it was unintelligible.
And then nothing. Not a sound for at least ten seconds. She thought she heard the door closing again, but couldn't be sure.
Tina frowned. Keeping the phone to her ear, she picked up the Nikon with her free hand.
Thirty seconds passed before she heard the deep engine rumble of the Land Cruiser. She watched in her wing mirror as it drove by her for a second time, heading back in the direction of the railway bridge. As the vehicle reached Gentleman's building, the driver slowed. A second later, the man in the cap and sunglasses walked out the front door.
Tina flinched. He was alone. Where the hell was Gentleman?
She dropped the phone, zoomed in with the Nikon and got off a couple more shots as he opened the passenger door, keeping his head down. As the Land Cruiser pulled away for a second time, Tina picked up the phone again and heard nothing but silence coming from Gentleman's apartment. She began to get an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She looked up at the second-floor windows. Nothing was moving up there. Cursing, she called Gentleman's landline. It rang and rang, finally going to message. She looked up his mobile number in her notebook and called that. It went to message too.
Either he was no longer at home or, far more likely, he was dead. Tina knew she'd miscalculated. If Gentleman had been killed, there was no way of avoiding the fact that it was her fault, because she was the one who'd set events in motion. 'Shit,' she whispered, 'what have I done?' She knew the answer: she'd acted like an amateur, and now the repercussions were going to be enormous.
She was still professional enough to know that she had some extremely valuable evidence in her possession, however. She pulled her laptop from under the passenger seat, plugged the camera into it, and watched as the photos she'd just taken downloaded. She then opened up her email account and sent the photos to Rob Fallon's and Mike Bolt's email addresses with the same message for both – Do you recognize this man? – before signing out and replacing the laptop under the seat.